Darkness Reborn
by Caitriona3
Summary: Once more the world approaches the end of an Age...and Darkness seeks to claim the Age to come. Gandalf must reawaken the souls of the past in order to prevent the final destruction of all they fought to save in a time beyond legend, beyond myth...in a time when Men were but one Race among many. (AN: Yes, I cheated on all the last names!)
1. To Begin Anew

_Author's Note – Original Prompt by Anonymous: The Company is reincarnated into the modern era. Only one of the company (Bilbo? Gandalf? Thorin?) remembers and knows that he has to find the others and trigger each their memories with a different object/situation/whatever. Basically, I'd like to see what the individual memory triggers are._

**Darkness Reborn**

"_Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." _

A distinguished looking white-haired man in a business suit stood and stared at the sign for a long moment before humming in disapproval. Lips pursed, half-hidden in a neatly trimmed beard, as his mind ruminated on the message. It was true enough in its own way, at least for individual men, but how absurd they were to limit it so. The teaching belonged not only to this generation, but to the entire race of Man. Empires rose and fell because men refused to acknowledge simple truths – even the most basic of truths.

Evil existed.

It existed in the hearts of all sentient beings, yes, but it also existed in and of itself. People thought to explain it away with their new psychology or medicate it away with their new drugs. Every generation attempted the same – every generation failed. Every generation presumed they knew so much more than their forefathers. The man turned from the poster, shaking his head. For untold millennia he would visit the world of Men, sometimes happy, sometimes not at the changes wrought, but always he remained a step back – a mere spectator. The time for his direct involvement had long since passed.

And yet…

The signs began to appear once more – signs familiar, yes, but also signs unwelcome. Signs he had not seen since before the turning of the age. As they grew clearer, he had been instructed to visit and walk the world once more to learn if something beyond the ken of men threatened all life once more. He explored and searched and researched…and he came to one overwhelming conclusion. The world prepared for the return of an ancient evil…and those who would serve that evil began to prepare as well.

Then one day on the cover of a magazine…he saw the surest sign of all.

Red-gold hair slicked back from a ruddy complexion; sly brown eyes glittered with golden flecks. The very picture of health, a man both familiar and unfamiliar stared out of the glossy page: 'Famous or Infamous? Wealth, rumors, and suspicions abound in Drake Benedict's life. Just who is this man?' A ridiculous title. The white haired man gave a soft snort. As if a journalist, no matter how enterprising or determined, would figure out that answer! Let the red-haired billionaire call himself 'Drake' or whatever he wanted – he could not hide his true self from those with the eyes to see.

Smaug, fire drake from the North, had returned in human form and appeared to be up to his old tricks – with more cunning and less fire perhaps, but still possessing a dark and twisted desire for gold.

"_Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." _

Once more the white haired fellow turned back to the poster and considered the words upon it. Words echoed in his mind, words spoken by a rich feminine voice: "History became legend. Legend became myth."

His own voice whispered through the air. "And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost." The world had long since forgotten the truth of dragons, let alone Dwarves, Elves, and Wizards.

It appeared he would need to set things in motion yet again to defeat a dragon. For surely, if Smaug was here, than so to should the Company be reborn – for theirs the fate to deal with him, regardless of the Age. How they would deal with this incarnation…that was hidden from him for now, but it mattered not. First things first: he had to find them. The world needed the fourteen of them once more.

Thorin Oakenshield and his Company needed to be awakened once more.

He could still see them in his mind's eye, thirteen Dwarves and their Hobbit. Proud Thorin stood in front of his nephews, the adventuresome Fíli and the exuberant Kíli, acting as both leader and father-figure. Near them one would always find wise Balin and hot-tempered Dwalin, kinsmen to the royal line. The same held true for their cousins, the canny Ôin and suspicious Glôin. Shy Ori would have his brothers flanking him as crafty Nori and the fussy Dori sought to protect their younger brother. Three more Dwarves rounded out the thirteen – unstable Bifur, optimistic Bofur, and the quiet Bombur.

They made for quite the merry gathering.

The thought brought to mind the fourteenth member of their band of adventurers. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End would forever hold a special place in his heart – indeed, in the hearts of all those who remembered the ending of the Third Age. A Hobbit, one of the settled and peace-loving Shire-folk, who had been accorded respect and honor by the mighty across three Races, Bilbo once touched the one of the greatest evil relics to ever foul the surface of the earth and yet he remained, for the most part at least, a good and honorable soul. The Company would need him.

Gandalf, called Gabriel McKellen in this age of Men, nodded to himself. His work began anew, signaling yet again the approach of an end. A new Age prepared to dawn and its shape could well be decided by the new confrontation between the Company and the Dragon.

Eru help them all.

"_Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." _

It took several months, but Gandalf finally found the first of those he sought. Another three weeks went by before he could get into see the man, though perhaps that should not be so surprising. The man did happen to be the only heir to two large companies – the Aiken Mining Company and Durward Jewelers. No doubt his schedule was full – between management issues and meetings and who knew what all – but that did not prevent Gandalf from grumbling as he took a seat across from the man.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, Mr. Armitage," he groused.

"A deliberate choice, Mr. McKellen. Too many people attempt to lay claim to my time." Thorne Armitage lifted an eyebrow at his guest. "You spoke of a stone that belonged to my family?"

Gandalf gave a quiet harrumph and looked at his host. Short black hair streaked at the temples in gray gave him a look of distinction and he stood a good deal taller than his previous incarnation, but Gandalf would have known him for the blaze in his eyes. This man knew hardship – heir or no – and he appeared to be no stranger to hard work. Good, he would need all of the fire he could muster. "I did," Gandalf nodded in agreement, opening his briefcase and pulling out a small leather pouch. "I did indeed." He held out the small bag. "I return that which has long been held in anticipation of this day."

Sharp blue eyes looked him over as the other man reached out and accepted the offering. "And how did you come into possession of this if it should be with…" Thorne's voice trailed off as he pulled out the glowing gem famous in ages past as the Arkenstone. A shiver ran through the tall frame and the dark head dipped for a moment before the lines of his body straightened once more. New authority and old wisdom slid into place beside one another as his eyes focused on Gandalf once more. "Gandalf."

"Hail and well met, Thorin, King under the Mountain," Gandalf replied, a small hint of a smile hovering over his lips.

"Why?"

Gandalf did not pretend to misunderstand the simple and yet complex question. "The Company is needed," he replied, simple and forthright. The man before him knew the ways of Wizards and would respect honesty more. Reaching into his bag, Gandalf pulled out a magazine and set it in front of Thorne, face up. "The turn of an Age is coming."

Thorne leaned forward, examining the face on the cover. An icy gaze swept up to meet the Wizard's soft look of concern. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the magazine. "Smaug."

"Yes."

"And you would have me deal with him?" Thorne lifted his brows in question.

"I would. He will not fool you as he has done so many others." The Wizard paused. "But I would not have you do it alone. Never alone," Gandalf told him, a sparkle of mischief entering his gaze. "After all, a dragon is a bit much for one man…even one in human form. I would think a group would be better…a veritable Company in fact."

A new light, one of hope, flickered in Thorne's eyes. "My friends? My Kin?"

"I'm tracking them down now," Gandalf reassured him. "The bond between you…it has a unique feel to it and I am able to trace it. I'm getting close to them…very close."

"And Bilbo?"

It was Gandalf's turn to flick an eyebrow. "Is he not counted among your 'friends'? Or is he something else entirely?"

A faint flush of shame dusted Thorne's cheeks. "I count him as friend, but he-"

"He forgave you."

"I know." The whispered words rang with a confused uncertainty.

"Fear not," the Wizard rapped his knuckles on the arm of his chair. "Hobbits were really quite remarkable creatures, and I doubt he's lost any of the qualities that make him 'Bilbo'. I look forward to finding him – along with the others."

Now a smile glimmered through the short, neatly trimmed beard. "So do I," Thorne nodded. "So do I." His eyes fell once more on the glowing stone in the center of its desk. "Gandalf, the Arkenstone..."

"It has been cleansed," Gandalf replied. "No longer shall it be a source of temptation or danger to anyone save through beauty alone."

"Dangerous enough," Thorne huffed, but real amusement threaded through his voice.

"True, as all beautiful things can be, but I think you will not let such affect you," Gandalf mused. "Not in this life."

"No, not in this life," agreed Thorne. "My failure in the past caused enough damage. I will not repeat it now."

"Let us not dwell on it either," Gandalf told him in a gentle voice. "You have paid for any failures of the past and they are not shadows to darken the present. Your memories were not returned as a punishment, but as a guide. You would not have grasped the danger so quickly were you not reminded of the truth."

Thorne closed his eyes and remained silent for several long moments. His shoulders straightened and his mouth grew firm. "Agreed," he nodded as he opened his eyes once more. His gaze flickered from Gandalf to the Arkenstone. Placing the stone back in its leather bag, he moved to a wall safe and tucked it away. "Let it remain there until needed or the world ends," he murmured.

A hint of pride entered Gandalf's expression, only to be wiped away before it could be seen. "When I find your kith and kin, where shall I direct them?"

"Where….?" Thorne mused on the question before his face lit with an idea. "I have a place in Colorado," he told Gandalf. "Let them go there. It will be private and we can discuss things openly without worrying about prying eyes or eavesdropping ears."

"No Gamgees then," Gandalf muttered, amusement twitching his lips.

"Who?" Thorne gave him a confused frown as he jotted down the location and directions on a sheet of paper.

"Never mind," the old man laughed. "An old memory. Very well then," he nodded, accepting the information. "I shall continue my search while you prepare for visitors."

"If they come." A shadow passed over Thorne's face. "One dragon is enough in any lifetime."

"They will come," Gandalf assured him, his voice saturated with confidence. "I will all but guarantee it."

"Let's hope you're right." Thorne folded his arms over his chest. "One thing I did learn the last time – I can't do this alone."

Gandalf nodded, giving a shallow bow of his head before leaving the once, and possibly future, king. He breathed a sigh of relief. "One down," he murmured. "Thirteen to go."


	2. A Good Day

_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I'm having fun plotting this out. Remember – if they seem awfully familiar, I stole the last names from the actors of the people in question. (I got a little lazy on names…sorry!)_

**A Good Day**

It looked to be a good day.

Gandalf sat on a bench, smoking a pipe and musing over the vagaries of life. His unexpected discovery of two lines of the Company bond leading to the same building proved both fortuitous and curious in a rather theoretical sort of way. The two men he now sought had shared much in their previous life – bonds of blood and friendship, two great quests, and even found death near to one another. How fitting they should now share a place in life, though all unknowing of the connections between them. He knocked the ash out of his pipe with an absent-minded motion and rose to his feet. Enough lollygagging about – he needed to go in before he was late for his appointment.

A bright smile greeted him as he entered the office. "Good morning!" chirped the young woman behind the desk. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I do," he replied, his serious expression offset by twinkling eyes. "Gabriel McKellen."

"Oh, of course, I have you here," she nodded, her face still set in pleasant, cheerful lines. "If you'll have a seat, Dr. Stott will be ready for you shortly."

"Thank you." Gandalf sat near the window and watched as the people outside scurried about, running hither and thither as if the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. He chuckled to himself – he should not be so quick to judge. Had he not seen the fate of the world rest on even less likely shoulders during his lifetime? Perhaps one of them did bear such a weight…and if not, then perhaps it was the end of their own little world they sought to avert.

"Mr. McKellen?"

"Yes?" He looked up to meet another cheery look.

"Dr. Stott will see you now."

"Thank you, Miss," he nodded, rising and making his way into the inner office.

An older man sat behind the desk, a serious expression in his eyes as he finished making some noes on the page in front of him. Gray-white hair fluffed about his face while a matching beard flowed down from his chin in a more tamed fashion. He looked up as Gandalf took a seat. Warm brown eyes crinkled in a professional smile.

"You would be Mr. McKellen, then?" Dr. Blayne Stott gave him a curious look.

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded, a touch of humor flickering through his mind.

"Excellent!" Blayne moved a folder and glanced down at his calendar. One eyebrow lifted in surprise. "It seems my assistant forgot to note anything in regards to what brings you to my office." His gaze moved back to meet Gandalf's eyes. "I'm not sure how I missed that earlier as I generally prefer a little more information before meeting a patient for the first time, but perhaps you could tell me what brings you to seek counseling?"

"I have little need for a counselor," Gandalf replied as he lifted his briefcase into his lap.

Confusion entered the other man's face. "Then why make an appointment?"

"I've found people are much more agreeable about meetings when they are scheduled than when they are sprung unexpectedly." Gandalf chuckled. "I must admit to getting quite a lecture once upon a time from a very dear friend for my bad habit of popping up without warning. He would be glad to know I have finally learned my lesson."

Blayne's wrinkles deepened in amusement. "Old friends have the best impacts, do they not?" he replied, a hint of laughter in his tone. "Very well then, if you do not need my professional services, what brings you to my office?"

"First and foremost, I have something to return to you," Gandalf told him, pulling a small cedar box out of his briefcase. He placed it on the desk and sat back. "I believe this will answer some of your questions," he continued as he clasped his hands together in a loose grip and rested them on his lap.

"Some amazing woodwork," Blayne murmured as he drew the box closer. "Are these…runes?"

"Yes," the wizard agreed, "ancient ones at that."

"Curious." The doctor opened the box, a bemused frown crossing his face as he reached in to pick up its contents. "A scrap of…is that paper? And more strange writing." His fingers touched the parchment and his entire body seemed to stiffen. He took a couple of shallow breaths before sucking in a much deeper one. His eyes flew to meet Gandalf's – still warm, but sharpened as his past experience as the consigliere to a king in exile bolstered his new life's education and proficiency in deciphering men's motives and emotions. "Tharkûn," he offered in cautious greeting.

"Master Balin," Gandalf smiled at him. "I am pleased to see you once more."

"Why?" Blayne asked. "Why stir these memories now?"

"The Company is needed." The wizard's face grew solemn. "I would not disrupt your life if I did not believe it necessary." He paused. "I have already found and awoken Thorin."

"Thorin?"

The shock and hope mingled in that whispered question brought a soft smile to Gandalf's lips. "Yes, I have found him, though he is now known as Thorne – Thorne Armitage."

"In this day and age," Blayne tilted his head, "why would the Company be needed?"

"I need to see a fellow on another floor first," Gandalf replied with a slight shake of his head. Humor glittered in his gaze. "It would be easier to explain once rather than repeating myself. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to meet him?" His lips quirked to the side in a small grin. "Or, to be more accurate, to renew your acquaintance?"

"Who?" Blayne demanded, coming to attention as he comprehended the cause behind the wizard's jollity. "Who else is here?"

"Come and see."

The two friends, wizard and man, strode down the hall to the elevator. Blayne glanced sideways to Gandalf as the elevator began moving. "And this Armitage…it's truly Thorin?"

"Yes, my friend, he is," Gandalf smiled. "Thorne Armitage is Oakenshield reborn. He awaits the Company's return."

"And my brother?"

"Dwalin…has proven difficult to pinpoint," he admitted. "My research has identified most of you, but he seems to move around as much as I once did when I wandered the lands of the various Free Peoples." Gandalf placed his hand on the other's shoulder. "Never fear, I shall find him."

"It should be impossible to miss someone you did not remember only a few hours ago," Blayne shook his head with a sigh, "and yet… I have always felt as though I were missing pieces of my life. Now…now I think I begin to understand."

"Perhaps." Gandalf considered it, musing as the elevator came to a stop. He stepped forward, his companion following, until he arrived at the correct door. For a moment he paused and leaned against the wall. "I believe you – all of you – earned your rest. You should yet be resting with your kin and awaiting the coming of Dagor Dagorath." His brow furrowed. "The path of the future is unclear, but I believe you would not have returned unless it was necessary for the Company to come together once again." Blayne nodded, but remained silent and Gandalf turned towards the office door.

A small sign beside the door held a simple inscription – 'Olin Callen: Pediatrician'.

"Ôin," Blayne breathed out, his voice tinged with excitement.

"Yes, so it is." Gandalf shook his head. "It quite startled me to find both of you in the same building."

The doorknob did not turn and Blayne's hopeful expression faltered, but the wizard gave a small huff of annoyance. He touched the knob a second time and this time it turned without hindrance. They stepped into a jolly looking waiting room. Toys littered the corners and the walls sported and old-fashioned fairy tale motif, complete with a dragon in one corner.

"There's always a dragon," Blayne muttered with a shake of his head.

"How did you two get in here?"

The sudden question drew their attention to the other door. A man of around the same height as Gandalf stood there, frowning through his spectacles at both of them. He had no beard, but he did possess a full moustache – and they would have known him even if he had been clean shaven. Blayne drew in a quick breath and shifted to move forward, but he stopped as the wizard put a hand on his arm.

"Well?" Dr. Olin Callen demanded. "We're closed for lunch – and I know that door was locked."

"Our apologies for the interruption," Gandalf replied, "but we needed to bring you something and now truly was the most convenient moment."

"Oh, alright," Olin heaved a sigh. "You might as well come in and sit down if it's important enough to break into my office." He led them into a small break room and took a seat in front of a half-eaten meal. They took the other seats and he lifted both eyebrows. "Go ahead then," he nodded to Gandalf. "What's so urgent it couldn't wait?"

The wizard reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small metal pestle. "I believe this is yours," he noted, placing the object on the table next to the food.

"I know what it is, obviously," Olin frowned, "but I can honestly say I've never owned a metal one. It's not as though I go mixing up my own concoctions." He gave a soft snort. "At least not anymore. They get touchy about that sort of thing. Haven't done it since I did some work in the jungle."

"And yet this is yours," Gandalf nodded at the gleaming pestle.

Olin reached for it even as he shook his head. "And I'm telling you I never owned…" His voice trailed off as his fingers brushed the shiny surface of the metal. He blinked – once, twice, three times – and then gave himself a good shake. Dazed brown eyes shifted from Gandalf to Blayne and back again. "Dratted wizard," he muttered before blinking his gaze clear. "That's quite a shock to throw at an old man," he informed Gandalf before a smile broke over his face. "Though I'm glad enough to see you." Now he looked back towards Blayne. "Cousin!"

"Kinsman!" Blayne rose and threw his arms around Olin. The two shared a quick, but fierce embrace before pulling back to look at one another. Blayne laughed. "I knew you as soon as I saw you."

"Aye, well, you had an advantage of meeting the wizard first," Olin pointed out before patting his cousin's shoulder. They exchanged another hug before sitting back down. Olin's gaze shifted to the smiling figure next to them. "So, master wizard, what's the meaning of all this? I take it for granted there is a reason – you wouldn't be doing this for nothing."

"I thought the same," Blayne interjected, "but he thought it would be easier to tell us together."

Both men looked at Gandalf, curiosity clear in their gazes and he pulled a magazine out of his still-open briefcase. Placing it face up on the table, he pushed it towards them. They looked down.

"Smaug!" Blayne pulled back, anger and fear chasing each other across his face.

Olin frowned. "The dragon came back in human form?"

"He did," Gandalf agreed, his voice heavy with unhappiness. "And that is why I have searched you out and begun to awaken the Company. A new Age is dawning and I believe it will be up to us to prevent evil from claiming it. They will undo all we once fought to achieve."

"The others?" Olin asked.

"Thus far I have spoken only with Thorin, reborn in this time as Thorne Armitage." Gandalf straightened in his seat. "He has summoned…no, that is inaccurate. He has _requested_ the Company join him in a new quest. Will you go?"

"My assistant is going to be terribly unhappy," Olin noted in an offhand manner. His eyebrows rose as the other two frowned at him. "What? She's going to be swamped with cancelling appointments and sending them to other pediatricians. It's a family emergency, so she'll understand of course, but that doesn't mean she'll be happy about it."

The three shared a laugh and Blayne nodded at Gandalf. "Yes, master wizard, we'll be going."

"Good."

Gandalf left the two men to their planning, both of them promising to head to Colorado in as short a time as possible. He stepped into the afternoon sunshine and gave a sigh of relief. "Almost a full quarter of the Company already assembled," he murmured, turning his face to the warmth of the sun.

Yes, it was indeed a good day.


	3. Last of the Elders

_Author's Note: My current plan is to finish having Gandalf find everyone and then do a chapter or two on their arrival in Colorado from Thorin's POV. Wish me luck!_

**Last of the Elders**

Gandalf walked into the building, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he made his way down the clearing hallways. He appreciated education and approved of the general concept of its universal availability but sometimes he wondered about the forms this educational system took in the modern day. Teaching to standardized tests as though the children's individuality did not matter. Worse – teaching modern fads as though they shared the same historical weight as a more classical education! On occasion he did consider the value of the old ways – even among the less civilized cultures of Men. At least their children knew and appreciated their own people's history instead of scoffing at it in favor of newfangled technology.

Never mind that for now – he had a man to find.

He followed the small tug he could feel in his mind. That line between the heart of the Company and his goal wavered and stretched, still thin and weak as the dwarf at the other end remained quiet and somnolent within the mind of the man. Despite this, he could feel the steady pulse as he drew closer. Each new member awakened and returned gave strength to all of the bonds – and here was a chance to continue. His steps quickened.

The room he turned into seemed to consist of several mini-kitchens lined up one after the other. Each possessed all of the major appliances as well as a sink and some countertop space. He could not recall seeing such a room before.

"Good afternoon." The soft voice drew his attention to the opposite door where a silver-haired man now stood. His hair lay in careful waves while a trim beard and moustache graced his lower face – a familiar face. Hazel-brown eyes held both welcome and inquisitiveness in their depths as they gazed back at Gandalf. Doran Hadlow appeared to feel at home in this strange room though the broad shoulders and calloused hands looked out of place. He tilted his head in a questioning smile. "Are you looking for one of the students?"

"No," Gandalf shook his head, "I am not. I came looking for you, Mr. Hadlow." He lifted his briefcase and placed it on one of the countertops, flipping the locks and opening it without breaking eye contact.

"For me?" Bemusement flickered in Doran's expression as his eyes grew cautious. "May I inquire as to why you would need to seek me out? I do not believe I have ever met you. Are you guardian to one of my students?"

"Indeed not." A chuckle escaped Gandalf as he lifted a small cloth wrapped package out of his case. "It has been quite a while since I was responsible for any single individual, though I feel those instances came out well enough in the end. No, my friend, I am here to return to you that which is yours."

Doran frowned and shook his head. "I don't know you," he noted in puzzled consternation.

"Please," Gandalf held out the package. "You will understand soon."

"I do not care for being kept in the dark," Doran informed him as he accepted the cloth bundle. "And I particularly dislike situations which may prove dangerous to students under my care. If this proves to be such a thing, you will very much regret entering my classroom."

"I assure you – I have no desire to cause any harm, either to you or to one of your students."

"One cannot be too careful." The teacher hummed for a moment as he unwrapped the package in his hands. "Particularly when it comes to the children." Confusion wrinkled his brow as he noted the hollow silver tube still resting in the folds of the cloth. "What is this?"

"A beard case."

Doran angled a repressive look at Gandalf. "What game is this? Did one of the boys on the team set this up?"

"Who?" The wizard blinked in honest befuddlement.

"In addition to teaching home economics, I am also the wrestling coach." the teacher informed him. "This has the feeling of one of their pranks. They are good boys, but a little too rambunctious on occasion. If they have put you up to this-"

"This is no prank," Gandalf insisted, interrupting Doran's flow of words as he closed his briefcase. "Regardless of what you choose to do with it, it is yours and I am happy to have returned it."

Doran heaved a sigh and pulled the case free of the cloth as he opened his mouth to reply. His voice seemed to catch in his throat and he remained silent, his jaw closing as he sagged against the countertop. Various emotions chased across his face – wonder, fear, joy, anxiety. Then he straightened, a fierce pleading entering his gaze. "Ori?" His voice shot out, filled with the banked embers of the loving devotion for which he had once been rightly famous. "Nori?"

"I am seeking them out, Master Dori," Gandalf assured him. "I will find them and offer them the same choice I have for you."

"What choice?" Doran demanded.

"To once again join the Company," the wizard continued. "To once more assist in facing down the evil bubbling beneath the surface of this current Age. Thorin awaits any who so choose."

Hazel brown eyes narrowed and then widened. "This 'current' Age?" Doran repeated. "Are we due for the next one then?"

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "The end of an Age is upon us."

"What if one of us chooses not to go?"

"Then, with that one's permission, I will inform select others – family – where they might be found. They can be reunited in some other place and time." Gandalf held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I know of no other way."

"Ori will go to Thorin's aid," Doran sighed. "The lad always did have romantic notions." He shook his head. "You best tell me where I'm going."

"Colorado," Gandalf smiled. "You are not the first I have found, so there will be friends waiting for you when you arrive."

After leaving the pertinent information with Doran, the wizard left to continue his search.

While he might have expected one of Dori's brothers to be next, the bonds drew him out of the city to a small community deep in the Appalachian Mountains. The folk there gave him cautious looks, but returned his greetings in polite enough fashion. They seemed unused to strangers, but he could understand the desire for a simpler way of life. He could feel some of his own anxiety fade as he took in the well-tended gardens and modest homes. It wasn't the Shire, but it held a similar air. Wild nature and sprawling urban cities would never hold his heart in the same fashion as these little places where people tamed nature with a reverent hand.

Here people remembered the truth of the bond between people and the world – they were to be its cultivators, not its tyrants nor its slaves.

And here – amongst this unpretentious community – he would find another member of the Company.

His steps took him to the edge of the village where the two sides of nature – tame and wild – seemed to strive for dominance. The building here did not have a garden, but rather a collection of different types of local woods. Wooden sculptures dotted the space as well, each one possessing the delicate details that separate art from hobby. A true craftsman lived here, but from the scattered toys around a small collection of benches, Gandalf presumed the artist kept himself busy in other ways as well. Art might satisfy the soul, but the old stereotype of the starving artist wasn't a complete falsehood.

Furniture and toys would always have a wider market than mere decoration – and that showed in the rough sign hanging in front of the house: B. Kircher, Woodworking.

He followed the sound of hammering to the back of the house where a figure labored over a box-like structure. Black hair streaked with white stood up in all directions and a similar beard almost hid the compressed lips of the craftsman. The head turned and a flash of hazel-green eyes glinted at Gandalf.

"I'm busy." The gruff voice matched the wild exterior.

"I understand," Gandalf replied, a respectful nod acknowledging the work. He felt a glow of affection pass through him at the memorable shaggy appearance. It was gratifying to see so much of his old friends and acquaintances in the men he now met. "I wished to give you something and answer any questions you might have. I shall then leave you in peace."

Byford Kircher rose to his full height and turned. Although he stood a couple of inches shorter than Gandalf, it was difficult to tell with the full mane of wild hair framing his face. A scar stretched over the right side of his face, moving from his forehead to his ear, just missing his eye. He lifted an eyebrow at the wizard.

"Very well then," Gandalf nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small carving tool. It was something meant for delicate work such as carving runes with precision.

A work-worn hand reached out and accepted the tool. The same hand began to tremble, but his fingers never faltered. Byford murmured and muttered, rough words spilling from him, but nothing distinct. After a few moments he looked up through his bands to peer at Gandalf. "_Iraknaddadê?_"

"I am sorry, Bifur, but I have not yet found your cousins," Gandalf replied, though his eyes sparkled at hearing the first Khuzdul spoken in almost an Age. "I have some hints to their presence, but I can only follow the path as it becomes clear."

"The others?" This time Byford's question came in English.

"Thorin is in Colorado, waiting for any of the Company who choose to join him." The wizard sighed. "Unfortunately the Company is not alone in its rebirth."

"_Uslukh_."

He nodded. "Yes, Smaug too has returned – this time in human form. His arrival – and the wealth he hordes – can only presage something dark and wicked on the horizon."

Humor lit the stern face. "Hmm… 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes'?"

Laugh lines carved themselves in Gandalf's countenance. "Ah, Shakespeare – a wonderful playwright. A shame his kind of genius comes so rarely."

"What of the remainder of our Company? The other families and Bilbo?" The humor turned serious as the toymaker refocused himself.

"Some of them are already making their way to Colorado as they can," Gandalf told him. "The others – I am still seeking. The bonds between you strengthen each time and finding the path becomes clearer. I am hopeful. A clearer path means a speedier one."

Byford nodded, his eyes narrowing as he peered around his yard. "I can be in Colorado in a week."

"Excellent!" A sigh of relief slipped from the wizard's lips. "They will be happy to see you."

"And I them."

Gandalf pondered his latest discoveries as he left the Appalachians behind him. Thus far he had been led to the eldest of each family among the Company. Hopefully the grace of the Valar would continue to work and the younger members would be drawn to follow as well. More interesting – each man possessed similar gifts to his past life. Each man held to the same core personality and found ways to fulfill the drives inherited from their former selves – Bifur with his need to create beauty from something rough and ragged; Dori's need to protect and teach those he deemed younger or weaker than himself; Ôin and his drive to heal the hurts of the body; and finally Balin finding new ways to guide people in becoming better, stronger in and of themselves. It proved to be a promising beginning, but it also led him to wonder about the as yet undiscovered members. He looked forward to finding out.

"Yes, yes, very promising," he murmured as he turned his face to the north, feeling a tug towards the urban sprawl of the east.


	4. Halfway Point

_Author's Note: Some of this fought me, but some just flowed. I hope you enjoy. And yes, you will recognize some of the dialogue. If you've seen it in book or movie, then it's not mine!_

**Halfway Point**

"How do they live like this?" Gandalf muttered to himself. He sat on a bench near a small body of water in the middle of Central Park and frowned at buildings towering above him. It wasn't the city itself, though he'd seen both better and worse in his long years. Even the crowded conditions did not bother him – Minas Tirith at the zenith of its power felt the same way. It was any city – during any age. He didn't understand it then and he couldn't understand it now – how people could crowd themselves together this way.

He remained as he always was – a wanderer at heart.

Enough musing. His eyes turned towards the financial district and it's oddly named, though famous thoroughfare – Wall Street. An hour and a half walk should get him there towards the end of the day with enough time to make his next appointment. Gandalf rose and began walking.

A tug yanked hard on the intricate web in his mind.

Blue eyes cut through the crowds as they sought the source of the pull. The connection led his attention to land on a chattering group of men and women as they meandered down one of the many paths in the park. They seemed to be having a rather vigorous discussion on various wines, wineries, and vineyards. Some of them sparked dim memories, as if he might have seen them before, but none of them stirred the awareness needed to pull him away from his task.

Then he spotted the lone figure following the crowd.

A smile spread over Gandalf's face before he fully processed what, or rather _who_ he was seeing. He started forward and timed his movement to intercept the man just as the group turned onto a different path. It gave them a little more privacy as the Wizard planted himself in the middle of the walkway. A confused pair of brown eyes blinked at him before a calm voice offered a greeting. "Good afternoon."

Gandalf chuckled. He couldn't have asked for a better opening if he tried. "What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good afternoon or do you mean that it is a good afternoon whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular afternoon. Or are you simply stating that this is an afternoon to be good on?"

The man, once a hobbit bearing the name of Bilbo Baggins, stared at him before his lips curved up in amusement. "All of them at once I suppose," he shrugged. "Are you a wandering philosopher, or did an odd mood just strike you?"

"Both," Gandalf laughed, "or either. I have been called stranger things." He tilted his head. "Would you have a moment? I have something I would like to show you." Bemusement entered the fellow's eyes, but the Wizard quickly shook his head. "I give you my word, I am not trying to sell you something. I would just like an opinion."

"Okay, then, certainly. I don't have any pressing business."

Gandalf pulled a pipe out of one of his pockets. It wasn't his, but he often carried it as a reminder that everyone – even the smallest person – could change the world. He held it out.

"A pipe?" Slender, but calloused hands accepted the pipe only to spasm around it. The former Mr. Baggins all but fell onto the bench.

"Are you quite alright?" The Wizard tried not to hover, but it was difficult.

"Give me a moment." A few deep breaths and a few quiet moments later, those brown eyes looked up to focus on into worried blue. "Hello, Gandalf."

"Bilbo Baggins."

"Actually, it's Billy Freeman now."

"As you will," Gandalf nodded. "May I explain?"

"Oh?" Billy looked at him, eyebrows going up in surprise. "You do that now?"

"Hmph." The Wizard did his best to seem grumpy and out of sorts, but he could not pull it off. He felt too happy at this unexpected turn of events. Billy chuckled but indicated he should continue, so he set out his concern and the slow discovery and awakening of the company once more. "I have an appointment with another of your companions," he finished. "I was not expecting to find you here."

"I'm here for a convention," Billy replied in an absent way. He appeared to be mulling over the facts. He gave a nod, almost to himself, and then looked up. "I'll send word to my people back home. They can manage things for a while. The convention ends tomorrow morning and I planned to fly out the next day. I will see about getting my flight switched. I can be in Colorado in two days, three at most."

"Then you will go," Gandalf sighed in relief.

"Of course I'm going to go," Billy shook his head. "I'm certainly not letting them go on their own." He continued before the Wizard could reply. "So, who exactly are we going to see?" he asked, an expectant look in his eyes.

Gandalf felt a glow of accomplishment. Not only did he almost have half the company awoken and planning their journey to Colorado, but he already had Bilbo. The morale boost from his inclusion alone would carry the wizard through the rest of his search. Its effects on Thorin and company could only be imagined. For now, he needed to reach out to the one who had drawn him into the city.

The embellished nameplate bore the inscription – G. Hambleton.

He stepped into the large office and a smile came to his lips as he took in the décor. Family photos beamed at him from every surface. Gandalf's eyes softened as he took them in for here before him he beheld more than one familiar face. It appeared as though both father and son returned once more to participate in the ending of the Age. As they saw the Fourth Age born, so too would they see it close.

How very fitting…how very fitting indeed.

One picture in particular drew him. The family portrait contained all three family members in formal attire, but unlike so many posed pictures, this one held laughter and affection clear for all the world to see. Glynn Hambleton, who Gandalf once knew as Glóin, radiated pride as he stared towards his wife and their son. Her eyes held mischief as she glanced towards her husband, while the lad appeared to have been caught mid-chortle, looking like he might fall of his stool at any moment. Another wellspring of hope and joy blossomed within the Wizard as he stared at the youngster – even as this age the young fellow showed hints of the Dwarf who once journeyed with himself as a member of the Fellowship.

"Good afternoon!" The voice boomed through the office and Gandalf turned to meet a familiar gaze. Red hair and a trim red beard framed a ruddy face with bright eyes and a ready smile. That smile widened as Glynn's brown eyes moved to the portrait. "Ah, that's one of our best." He chuckled. "Not the one we sat for, mind you, that one didn't come out as well. The photographer snapped this one accidentally, but he made a pretty penny on it." Another laugh echoed in the room. "Well earned though – well earned." Pride still shone in his face as he patted the frame.

"You have a lovely family, Mr. Hambleton," Gandalf nodded in agreement.

"Thank you – I agree!" Glynn turned towards him. "So, Mr. McKellen, is it? What can I do for you?"

"I am here about something I can do for you, Mr. Hambleton," the Wizard smiled, eyes twinkling.

"Oh?" Glynn's eyes narrowed, canny suspicion entering his gaze. "Do tell."

The wariness did not dim Gandalf's cheer; indeed, it increased it, as it brought to mind the Dwarf who once drove the hardest bargain in all of Ered Luin. "Yes, yes," Gandalf chuckled, "let me show you." The Wizard placed his briefcase on a chair and opened it, pulling out a cloth bag. He handed the bag to the dubious financial advisor. "This is for you."

Glynn took the bag and opened the drawstring. "Why would you have something of mine?" he asked. "And how would you have gotten it?"

"It was given to me," Gandalf assured him. "And I sought you out in order to return it."

"I still don't-." A tremor ran through the man and he pulled out an odd contraption of metal and glass…odd to anyone else anyway. Glynn gazed on it and recognition flickered in his face. "My lens," he murmured, his voice seeming to deepen.

"Yours indeed."

Brown eyes darted up to meet the Wizard's gaze before skimming the nearby portrait. "My son?" Glynn demanded, anxiety building in his expression. "Is he going to…?" His voice trailed off as though he felt unsure of how to phrase his question.

"I don't know." Gandalf shook his head. "My knowledge, my insight only extends to the company right now. I cannot say if his memories will one day need to be awoken." His eyes softened in the face of such concerned paternal affection. "I would have allowed you to remain at rest, Master Glóin, if I could, but the company is needed – and I will not put such a test before you without full knowledge of what is faced."

Glynn glanced at the family portrait once more before focusing a warrior's gaze on Gandalf. "What test?"

A knock interrupted before Gandalf could answer. Both of them turned as the door opened. "Am I too early?" Billy asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Not at all!" the Wizard enthused. "Come in!" He turned a brighter gaze on the now gawking financial adviser. "Glynn Hambleton, meet Billy Freeman."

"Gandalf," Billy rolled his eyes before muttering, "and to think Gimli called you grumpy."

An amused snort answered him, not from the Wizard, but from Glynn. "Sounds like my lad," he shook his head before giving up and chortling in amusement. "If that's not our burglar back and still full of cheek." The chuckles settled into a broad grin. "Bilbo Baggins!"

The two shared a quick embrace before stepping back to take a good look at one another. Gandalf leaned against the side of an armchair. "It gladdens me to see another reunion," he smiled.

The two voices answered him in overlapping questions. "Who else?" "The others?"

"Peace, peace!" Gandalf laughed. He looked to Glynn. "As I've informed out esteemed burglar-."

"You all really have to stop calling me that," Billy muttered.

"Perhaps," the Wizard allowed, "but if I may be permitted to finish, Thorin waits in Colorado for any who choose to join him." A self-satisfied glittered entered his smile. "Masters Bifur, Dori, Balin, and Óin are already headed there."

"Óin!" Glynn's head came up at that.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Your brother has chosen to heed the call. He and Balin travel together."

Caution entered Glynn's voice. "Why does Thorin need us? Why stir up our past?"

"Smaug is back," Billy sighed, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Glynn blinked at him before looking up to meet Gandalf's sympathetic gaze. Then he gave a disgruntled noise. "You'd think a dragon would make the news, no matter how pathetic reporting has become on a day-to-day manner."

"Oh, it's nothing so easy as that," Billy replied in an arch tone. "He's human now…and in the public eye."

"There's always something," Glynn grumbled. He thought for a moment and then sighed. "Ah, hell, I guess we're going to Colorado." His voice dropped back to a mutter. "Why can't they ever stay dead?"

"We approach the change of an Age," Gandalf informed him. "This generation of Men may soon see sights that have remained unseen and unknown for the thousands of years since Durin's folk last walked under sun and under stone."

"They're ill prepared for it," Billy frowned.

Gandalf shook his head. "They have no preparation," he corrected. "They have forgotten much, losing touch with anything beyond their ability to prove with the limited form of 'science' they possess."

"And they would think you mad if you tried to prepare them," Glynn nodded.

"Precisely."

"So we are to deal with Smaug and hope that is the end of it," Billy said in a slow, thoughtful voice, his eyes fixed on Gandalf.

"There is always hope, my friend," the Wizard pointed out.

"Yes," Billy agreed, his assurance leaving no room for doubt, "but if I find any rings this time around, you're dealing with them."

Glynn gave a firm nod, remembering the events that followed their own successful quest. "I don't want Goron having to retrace old steps as well. I want him to live out a peaceful life."

"Goron?" Billy prompted, and Glynn nodded to the family portrait. Billy's eyes widened and he laughed. "It looks like you're enjoying yourselves. It's a great picture," he complimented his old companion. His eyebrows went up in curiosity. "His name's unusual."

Now Glynn laughed. "Aye, and he's pouted about it since he was old enough to notice. It's a good family name though – goes back generations." He sobered, though his eyes remained soft and fond as they peered at his son's face. "And hopefully for generations to come." His gaze slid to Gandalf.

"I can make no promises," the Wizard reminded him. "If my will were to prevail, none of you would have been needed, but…" He let his voice trail off as he shook his head.

"I understand," Glynn agreed in a heavy voice. Then his shoulders straightened. "My wife and son are away visiting her parents," he informed them, "so I can go to Colorado for a time at least. I'll claim a business meeting perhaps."

"Tell them you've got a potential new client," Billy put in. He shrugged when the others looked at him. "What? I need a new financial advisor. I might as well use one I can trust."

Laughter rang throughout the room, bringing a strong sense of satisfaction to Gandalf. As long as good folk could find reasons for joy, humor, hope, and love, then the evil could be fought and held off and even defeated. His own courage grew as each man chose to rejoin the company, each man wanting that connection, that family more than he worried about what his own return – let alone that of the dragon – implied. It brought to mind something he once told the lady Galadriel.

"_I've found it is the small things, every act of normal folk that keeps the darkness at bay – simple acts of kindness and love."_


End file.
